


Memories of a Dead Soldier

by NormieScum



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Heavy Angst, Implied love interests, M/M, The time line of this is a mess, This is just a mess in general, This is...yeah, erejean - Freeform, jeaneren - Freeform, probably the worst angst i'm ever gonna write, tw death, tw violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:24:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NormieScum/pseuds/NormieScum
Summary: This was the first time Eren learned how to appreciate his own beauty. Thanks to the now dead, Jean Kirschtein.





	1. Shades of Green

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS IS SOMETHING I'VE BEEN TOSSING AROUND FOR AWHILE AND I FINALLY DECIDED TO GO FOR IT. It takes place in an alternate version of canonverse centered around the idea of Jean dying on a mission outside the walls. The italicized text is journal entries from Jean's journal that Eren sees and decides to keep. There will probably be flashbacks of moments between Jean and Eren as well, I'll figure out how to differentiate between those when I come to them. This is kinda rough and a little hard for me to write because it's a new style I'm trying out but I wanted to give it a go! Let me know if you have any questions or anything and I'll answer them! I should have part 2 of this out by tomorrow night. Thanks :)

It was standard procedure to clear out a deceased soldier’s belongings. In the Survey Corps there was at least one deceased soldier a day…usually more.

However, sitting on the stiff military grade cot with his arm elbow deep in Jean’s personal belongings is not somewhere Eren had ever expected to find himself. The stack of books on his nightstand was littered with notes from soldiers in other divisions as well as a few different girls from the interior. It seemed Jean happened to be a bit of a player when it came to writing. After reading a few, Eren could see why. He’d sent them poetry written in the most flattering handwriting.

After reading a couple, he admittedly had goosebumps. However, he told himself because these were the memoirs of a dead friend. All that was left of Jean were the fragments of writing that casually put together the story of his life. He was used to loss and he found it hard to cry over this.

“Good riddance.” He’d been telling himself this since the beginning. Out of anger. But not anger towards Jean. The truth…was complicated. Jean was a valued team member and one of the toughest they had left. Well...not anymore.

You see, the truth was that Jean and Eren had become close. Not in a romantic or friendly sense. At least not to Eren. Not yet. It was just…complex.

They’d found the blond’s body during a recovery excursion. In fact, Eren had been the one to find him; he knew the sight of his comrade’s corpse would stick with him for the rest of his days. His body was badly bruised but he was still easily recognizable. They didn’t have the time or resources to perform autopsies on every dead soldier but Commander Smith had pointed out that he most likely had broken his neck in a fall. When Eren asked him how he could know that, he pointed out the lacerations on the male’s neck. The broken gear scattered around his body and the position of his body gave away the same hints; these facts not immediately bringing Eren any kind of distress. This was just part of the job and he’d become strangely comfortable with the rules of the game.

The most notable memory he had about finding Jean was the fact that his body still felt warm as he lifted him into the wagon with the rest of causalities. He told himself this wasn’t possible but his conclusion that it was from the sun. But how could a corpse have such a warm presence?

His uniform had been burnt with his body, Eren had been there for that too. He watched as the flames grew and engulfed the pile of fallen soldiers. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he did cry. He’d been in this position countless times but never had he been moved to tears so quickly. The thought of the taller male brought a sudden sense of emotion to his body and he didn’t know how to react to this, so he left.

Now, the same emotion was rushing back to him as he dug around in the drawers. Scattered with loose items such as pencils and cigarettes. Occasionally he came across a drawing, mostly of scenery or soldiers he recognized from around the barracks.

“He’s so untidy.” Eren muttered, frowning at his wording. ‘Was so untidy.’ He corrected in his head. The brunet had a habit of cleaning Jean’s sleeping quarters for him and now even after his death he was complaining about it. With the realization that this was the last time he’d be doing this, his heart sank. His eyes averted to the last piece of sketch paper laying in the bottom of the drawer and when he turned it over he noticed it was a drawing of himself.

“…what?” He squinted, carefully examining the lines of the drawing. The perfect curvature of the way Jean’s hand had drawn him onto the paper. It had to be one of the newer ones because it was easy to tell by the progression of his skill. This was so detailed and seemed so carefully thought out that it was almost photographic. He found himself wondering how long Jean had stared at him to get this much vivid detail into the drawing. He must have had it turned upside down in the bottom of his drawer to keep anyone from finding it. Eren traced his fingers over the smudged pencil marks from Jean’s hand and his hand shook from how troubled he was by this. Instead of putting it into the box he’d been supplied with to send back to Jean’s family, Eren kept the drawing.

When he shut the drawer, the sound of something falling onto the floor clattered in his ears and he searched around the nightstand. Finally, he got onto his knees and felt around under the piece of furniture and grabbed the first thing he felt brush against his hand. What he withdrew was a weathered leather-bound journal; his hand brushed over the front cover and when he flipped through the pages he noticed that most of them were filled with writing.

However no pages had the same amount. He’d seen one that was just scribbled with a bunch of x’s and then the words: 

_Eren Jaeger sucks._

But some pages were completely covered, from what he’d skimmed he could tell that the other male had a lot of deep thoughts and he found himself genuinely curious.

He dropped the book into the box but when he tried to walk away, he found himself staring at it. Snatching it back up, he tucked the drawing inside of it and carried it back to his own bunk to hide inside his pillow case.

It was days before he was able to pick the book up again, despite his curiosity running wild at the idea of reading Jean’s thoughts. He lay in bed huddled beside the lantern’s flame so that he could read. He skimmed over the first few pages as it was mostly just anguish from training days. However, he found himself stopping whenever he saw his own name, despite knowing it was mostly shit talk. Jean really hadn’t liked him at all in the beginning. His fingers skimmed words and thoughts and he found a lot of details about Jean making more sense than ever. For the first time since he’d met Jean, he found himself missing him.

_These nightmares I’m having are haunting. I’ll be lying in bed asleep and then I’ll be lying in a pool of my own blood. My gear scattered around my body like some kind of morbid puzzle. I always notice my eyes are open and staring towards the sun like I’m looking for something? What am I looking for? I have this dream almost once a week and then I wake up in a pile of my own sweat. I can’t help but feel as though it’s significant. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out in here. Everyone else seems so brave but I’m losing my shit. Every time we go outside those walls I always expect it to be the last time. Before missions I always steal extra food from the kitchen, hell I deserve it. If it’s going to be my last meal I want it to be good._

Eren traces his hands over a blood stain on the page. What’d happened? Papercut or? He feels an abnormally violent palpation of his heart that causes him to clutch his chest in shock. What is this that he’s feeling?

_The only good part of the mission was that I was assigned to Eren’s squad. Meaning I can keep an eye on him. Dumbass, I’m shocked he’s made it this far. I find myself thinking about him a lot more these days. Time goes by so slow and I just think about people and what role they play in all of this…in my life & the future. For some reason, he’s always my first and last thought. I like to think about how things would be if we weren’t involved in this mess. Would Eren and I be friends? I’ve never actually hated him. In the beginning, I was jealous because of Mikasa but that jealousy is gone and in place of it are feelings that I don’t understand. What am I feeling?_

“What am I feeling?”

The page ended abruptly and Eren is left with more questions than answers and a sudden care about what was going on in Jean’s life. When he flips the page, the following is a sketch of a place they must have seen on an excursion because there’s trees and a stream of water flowing gently across the paper. The corner of the page is folded down and when he folds it open there are words scrawled across it.

_Our eyes met for the first time_

He figured this to be some obscure reference to whatever poeticism Jean was caught up in that current evening but as he further examined the sketch, he realized how familiar the landscaped seemed. But why?

_After a lot of time thinking about it, I think green is my favorite color. There’s so many shades of it in absurd variations. My favorite shade is hard to explain, its vibrant and glistens in the sun. I’ve only ever seen it twice in my life so it must be rare… the first time was a bizarre gemstone in some small shop back home. It was so expensive and when you held it to the light it seemed to be blue as well. As if one color was seeping into another. The second time…well, that’s a story for a different entry. But the second time was so much more meaningful and shocking than the first. I wish I could talk about it, I wish I could tell him about his own beauty._

“Only that idiot could carry on about colors.” Eren tucks the book away in his pillowcase and blows out the candle in his lantern so that he’s lying in pure darkness. He just lays there for a while, staring at the ceiling but when he does drift off he has those nightmares. They all have nightmares after the horrors they’ve seen but these are different than ever, they’re about Jean. About finding his body. He was always so full of life but the sight of his corpse was permanently engraved into Eren’s mind.

Why’d it have to be him?

Why now?

Why?

“Why?” He woke up shouting, sunlight filtering through the window. Much like Jean had described, he awoke in a pile of his own sweat.

“Are you okay dude?” A very concerned sounding Connie asks, his short friend was a lot less comedic these days. He and Jean had been close and this seemed to be hitting him hard.

“Yeah-…nightmare I guess.”

“Ah. We all have them anymore it seems.”

“Yeah.”

“Just don’t let it keep you up at night.” Eren nods, sliding out of bed and to the bathroom to wash his face. Holding a wet cloth over his face for a few seconds he finally pulls it away and looks into the mirror. Jaded green eyes staring back at him and he finally realizes he might understand what Jean meant. He traced the bags under his eyes and leaned closer to the mirror to study his own irises. Puddled of muddied green with the faint trace of blue falling heavenly into the heavy color. This was the first time Eren learned how to appreciate his own beauty. Thanks to the now dead, Jean Kirschtein.

“…oh.”


	2. Forget-Me-Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I’ll die loving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels so lame as I write it and I regret killing Jean, I forgot how hard it is for me to kill him off in stuff. But I'm adamant on finishing this :")

Reading Jean’s journal quickly became something Eren looked forward to instead of a chore. In the beginning, he hadn’t really set any time aside to consider it but now he carried the little journal around the barracks with him and read it throughout the day. He was shocked by how many entries involved him and it’d become obvious how fond the tall blond was of Eren. But why?

He had yet to figure it out but each word left him clinging to some fascination that he’d understand his friend’s logic by the end but page by page he became more oblivious to the point.

If that was even possible.

Eren currently sat in the courtyard, the journal propped in his lap as he flipped through pages. The sun was shining so bright and he had to squint to read the small tight-knit print. “Damn him and his handwriting.” The brunet’s writing was sloppy and almost illegible, Jean’s was illegible because it was so formal.

_Armin saved my life today, I still can’t believe it. How is someone that skittish able to pull a trigger and shoot someone before I can?_

_I’m not even jealous or irritated as I usually would be when I’m bested, I’m just…_

_Thankful._

_I’m not ready to die, I know it’s ridiculous to say but I think some people come here to die. Not me, I want to outlive this. I want to be able to see my mom without seeing the worry in her eyes. I’d hate to disappoint her so I must return to Trost when all of this is over. Still, I have to wonder why that woman hesitated. She could’ve easily killed me, I thought I was a goner. I’ve never been thankful to be covered in someone else’s blood before._

A hand rests on Eren’s shoulder and snaps him back into reality, he looks up expecting Mikasa however, it’s Levi.

“You alright, kid?” This is the first time the corporal has been so comforting to him, he usually had a harsh tone and an even stricter look on his face but it’s actually welcoming right now.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve been awfully quiet since the mission. I’m not one for talking but we could find you someone to talk to if it’ll help you focus.”

“No, sir.” Levi squints, half wondering why Eren is being so quiet and courteous.  

“Okay…well here. I came to give this to you. It’s Kirschtein’s patch off his jacket. I saw the way you were watching when I took it off and I figured you might want to hang onto it.” There’d been rumors that Levi was still hanging onto his late squad’s patches and the sudden reality that this was most likely true made the gesture seem all the more meaningful.

“You’re sure that’s alright? It can go to his mother…”

“We can send it to her but it’s good for those who were close to him to have something to hold onto. Especially since you’re going to have to cut the grieving process short.” Eren’s eyes widen and he realizes just how dry they are when the air hits them. Red and irritated, he brings a fist up to rub at them and they begin to water.

“I’m fine, I can handle death just like any other soldier.”

“That may be so, but the look on your face says otherwise.” The short, older male holds the piece of tattered fabric out to Eren; the vibrant blue dye still clinging to the symbol along with a couple barely visible splotches of blood.

“He went down with a fight, I’m sure of it.” Eren finally speaks about Jean, this is the first time that he hasn’t tiptoed around the issue.

“I would hope so.” Eren finally accepts the small token of what’s left of Jean and along with it, the weight of his debts. This is the first sudden realization that Jean isn’t coming back. He’s gone. He clenches the fabric into his fist and it feels so small. How long until he’s just a patch in someone else’s hands.

And who would they give this figurative treasure to..?

He figured Mikasa or Armin were the obvious answer and he found himself wondering who Jean would want to be holding onto this small reminder of his life.

Turning back to look at the book in his lap, he notices Levi is already leaving. The older man has never been one for conversation and he’s thankful for that because Eren is teetering between tears and anger now. 

_I have this irrational fear that when I come back from outside those walls I’ll be a different person. The horror of looking in the mirror for the first time after an excursion is something I don’t think I’ll ever get over. Whenever I do look at myself afterward, covered in sweat and wearing unrecognizable features, I realize I am in many ways a different person. Each time, I grow colder and less human. It sounds dramatic and maybe it is but, I’m unrecognizable. I used to find peace in the idea of settling down with someone but now that I have so many problems—I wouldn’t want anyone to be stuck with me. When I’m like this, I don’t even want to be stuck with me._

After this page Eren decides not to read more for a few days, he’s near the middle of the journal now and it didn’t take him long to get here. The brunet isn’t sure why but he doesn’t want to finish it. Everything new there is to learn about Jean will be gone and for whatever reason, this is a hard realization to come to terms with.

Each night he finds it harder to sleep, not because of the nightmares or the hot nights but because he simply can’t shut his brain down long enough to fall asleep. With the lack of sleep, he doesn’t even become irritable, just lost. This is something he’s never felt before and he has to wonder why now?

Why with Jean?

He didn’t handle Marco’s death well but he never had a hard time accepting it either. But with Jean, he half expects the idiot to come waltzing into the room at any moment. Calling it all a joke.

The opacity of the fog outside the window on this particular night makes the chilly evening air all the more haunting. With every breeze that blew through the open barracks, Eren felt closer to hell than ever; metaphorical hands of the dead clawing his arms. Although it wasn’t real, simply a mixture of the cold and his own dread, it felt so tangible to the skittish male.

“This fucking weather is messing with me.” Scooping up his blanket and pillow, he got up to shut the window adjacent to his own cot. The moonlight played off the painfully white wall and illuminated half of the room, making it bright enough that Eren could see across the stretch of building. When he spotted Jean’s old cot at the clear end of the room in the corner he felt almost drawn to it. The pillow and blankets had been replaced but no one had been assigned to it yet so without hesitation his feet carried him towards the familiar spot. The same little corner of the room he used to clean every morning. Using the excuse of pleasing Mr. Ackerman. It didn’t feel right, laying on these clean sheets, so he ripped them off. And the thin military grade mattress underneath smelled like Jean. The faint scent of cologne but mostly the natural smell of his own body carried over from the fabric. Eren found himself curled up on the bed, his sheet thrown over himself. He made himself as small as possible and hugged his pillow to his chest. He’d never felt so vulnerable before; this raw sense of sincerity was frightening to the oblivious soldier. In him and Jean’s time together, he’d never once been honest about his feelings of the other male. Finally, the shocking revelation that he actually cared about Jean came about. With this, he found himself crying and the only thought in his head was,

Finally.

Throughout his life, Eren had cried a lot. More than most. But over the past week, since Jean’s passing, he hadn’t been able to. It’d just been building up however because now he was inconsolable. He didn’t even give a shit if he woke someone up, his grief had left him in an almost catatonic state.

As much as he wanted to speak, say anything, what could he say? What was there left to say? Jean was gone and he wasn’t coming back. But god, did he want him back. He’d give anything to see that stupid grin. He even found himself missing the painful shoving matches they so frequently got into. In the beginning, it’d been actual fist fights but towards the end, it’d become simply shoving and rowdiness; but none of it malicious.

_I keep so much hidden these days…okay not so much, but one big thing. Well, two. They co-exist to make up one big thing. First and foremost, I think I’m gay. Well, not completely but I definitely look at guys the way I do girls. At least one guy. I’m not sure if it’s normal, I’d really like to know but I haven’t the slightest idea who to ask. So I don’t._

_The second, I’m in love with someone. It’s unrealistic because he’s a guy. But I try to look at it from an honest standpoint. I’m always going to love him whether he ends up with someone else or if I end up with someone else. If he were to die, I’d still love him just as much and if I die,_

_Well, I’ll die loving him._

_Whenever it rains, the rain always stops. Pain always heals after time. We almost always return to being okay but I don’t think this is something I can come back from. It feels like I’m hopelessly suffocating and there’s no one around to help me._

_He’s so important to me that sometimes I forget that he’s just as important to other people. A lot more exciting people than me. But I remind myself that I am deeply in love with him and nothing will change that. No one will._

_There’s a lot of what If’s I keep asking myself about this situation when in reality I know that nothing will ever come of it. I don’t think he feels the same and I know I’ll never tell him about it. But the hopeful side of me keeps asking, what if?_


	3. Made of Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't care if it hurts  
> I'll pay my weight in blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is done, I don't know how I feel about it but I didn't want to leave it unfinished. Thanks for reading!

_We shared a moment. More than a quick glance, unlike any we’ve had in the past. I have dreams about moments like these and I never expected to feel one but the way you embraced me. We almost felt real. I don’t think it meant much to you, but to me it was everything. I’m so sick of fighting with you, I’m tired of playing fool. Like I don’t care how you feel about me, like I don’t care that you don’t love me. I know that nothing I feel towards you could stand up to the cruelty of how things are, it wouldn’t last because I won’t last forever. Neither will you, sadly. I can’t imagine a world without you but living in a world where you don’t feel the same sucks just as much sometimes._

_This is the last time I’ll be writing about you though, I need to focus on more important things. Not pining over some cruel idiot who doesn’t even know how lucky he is._

Eren frowns, he’s only halfway through the page of scrawled writing. Jean’s handwriting gradually becomes worse and he can almost feel the emotion being conveyed. The man must’ve been bitter…hurt. He suddenly realizes that he knows exactly what Jean is talking about. Even if Jean never says exactly who it’s about; Eren knows. He remembers the moment because it’d been special to him too, but in a different way.

It’d been a particularly difficult day and Jean was the one that’d been at his side, shockingly. He had expected Armin or Mikasa and although he knew they would’ve been there for him, they were caught up in their own problems. But Jean, he remembered the day so clearly. The sign was painfully bright and the air was humid and terribly hot.

“You alright? You’re quiet. You’re usually never quiet.” Jean’s voice resonates in the back of Eren’s mind and he almost remembers what the dead soldier’s voice sounds like. But not quite.

“Yeah I just…need to know it gets better.” Eren is sitting on a fence, his forearms rested on the tops of his thighs as he tries to power through his own meltdown. Not a bad meltdown, he just felt lost. But didn’t they all.

“It doesn’t.”

“You’re so cynical.” Jean sits beside him, a cigarette propped between his lips. Right then, he looked so cool. He always looked so cool.

“You make me this way, idiot. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” Eren doesn’t put much thought into this, instead falling to the side slightly so his head rests on Jean’s shoulder. He feels the blond tense beside him but once again, he doesn’t think much of it.

“Yeah well…I’m glad you’re here.” Eren follows the comment up with a relaxed sigh; he shuts his eyes to doze and almost doesn’t here Jean whisper ‘I’m glad I’m here to.’

_So, if this is to be the last time I write about you, I need to say everything. I hate you, I hate your stupid face and your incredibly terrible personality. I hate how loud you snore because you always keep me awake, and I really hate how much I trust you._

_I knew that I’d be a different person after joing the Corps and I also knew you’d be different. I was hoping that one or both of us would be so different that I didn’t care about you anymore but well,_

_That didn’t happen._

_I’ve been spiteful towards you in the past and I wish I was malicious enough to not care about you now. I’ve never been this kind of guy. The kind that pours his heart out for no reason._

_But I like to believe there’s a reason. If not now, maybe someday._

_If something happens to me, I hope someone shows this to you. I hope you someday know how I felt about you._

_Just because I was too afraid to tell you in my life, doesn’t mean you can’t know in my death. I’m guessing it’s not what you want to hear now, and it probably never will be. But if you do find out, I want you to know that I cared about you a lot more than I could ever say. Even if I hadn’t said how I feel, I hope I could show you in silent, practical ways._

_Eren, I love you, I always have. I’m so sorry._

As if he’s come to the edge of a mountain, Eren freezes up abruptly. His fingers rest over his own name at the end of the page. He only has a few more pages left that are written on and he has to wonder when this was. Jean doesn’t date the pages and judging from the moment he mentioned, their moment, it must’ve been at least months ago. Did he stop writing altogether because of this? Faintly, he realizes he might have been Jean’s muse. And the sickening idea that he could’ve inspired the blond to fight harder to stay alive works its way into his head. At this point, he’s become his own worst enemy; convincing himself that anything that goes wrong is directly his fault because sometimes, it is.

It’s early in the morning, before sun up, but Eren slides out of bed and into his shoes. Navigating through the dark, he feels tears well in his eyes and he doesn’t fight them back.

“You complete idiot!” He shouts in a tone hushed just enough that he doesn’t wake anyone. His feet carry him in a direction he has put little thought into but he’s in a sprint going down the halls towards the door that leads into the courtyard.

When he realizes he’s going to the spot where he and Jean had their “moment”, he feels sick to his stomach. The idea of caring about someone /after/ they’re dead was sickening enough but he realizes that maybe he had felt the same way about the blond too. It hadn’t been as intense as Jean describes but he finds a lot of similarities in the way he feels.

The urge to touch him, he wanted to feel through the male’s stupid undercut. He could imagine how nice it felt. And then there was the one time when they’d stolen a bottle of liquor from an older guard and had too much to drink. Eren faintly remembered the urge to kiss Jean. He pushed it away, right now he was too weak to think about that.

All of this felt like some kind of cruel joke, like Jean would come out of the barracks chasing after him. He imagines the tall male wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hugging him back against his chest. He imagines Jean’s hot breath on the nape of his neck. Shivering from how cold it is, Eren cradles his own arms around himself.

“It’s not fair, why’d you have to go?” He turns his head and whimpers against his own arm; the realization of how horribly alone he’d felt since Jean’s passing weighing down on him.

He’d never let anyone see him like this, even now that the blond was gone he still led everyone on that he didn’t care about him. It was cruel, but everyone grieved in different ways…this was his way.

_I killed someone today. I can’t even talk about how disgusting it made me feel because he probably didn’t deserve it. He was fighting for his own reasons and I stopped him. I’m the bad guy to someone, normally that wouldn’t bother me but for some reason it does now. I didn’t want to hurt anyone._

_Fuck this._

_I’ve been burning pages out of this book, 1 by 1 until I run out of memories to talk about. Until I run out of pathetic & miserable moments where I actually feel like somebody that’s important. I’m tired of playing the underdog role, I’m so sick of being the guy that no one remembers._

_I’ve gotten rid of almost every trace of Eren, it’s for the best._

_I should just get rid of this altogether because it seems like I’ll be sticking around for longer than I thought I would. I’m not sure whether I’m happy about that or not. In the beginning, I had so much morale but now, I’m not so sure how much longer I can keep this up. I don’t have a reason other than the mission. Everyone else has something or someone but me? Nothing._

Eren frowns, flipping through the pages that’d come before this one. For the first time noticing the rough bindings that were remainders of pages. He really had gotten rid of some and it made Eren sick to know there was more to his story that he’d never know about. And the writing from Jean was different now.

Angry.

The next few pages are blank aside from a few small sketches. One of a soldier Eren didn’t recognize and then one of Mikasa. He’d put exceptional amounts of detail into Mikasa’s features and it looked so much like her that he couldn’t resist lightly tearing until he’d pulled the page from the book. Gently folding it, he tucked the paper away inside his pocket with the intent to give it to Mikasa in the morning. Her and Jean had been close too, he thought she deserved a piece of him to hang onto. Even if she acted fine, he knew she was mourning too.

But it was hard not to feel selfish, like he was going to take this the hardest. Because no one else had just realized that might love someone that’s dead now.

Bitter and incredibly exhausted, Eren left the spot and started slowly walking back in the direction of his bed.

But when he passed Jean’s bed, he couldn’t help but stop and sit down. Looking out the window, he realized that the sun was starting to come up and he was filled with a bittersweet sadness that Jean would never look out this window into the setting sun. He’d never see another setting sun but more importantly, he was free from the gruesome grips of war. The self-hate he could tell Jean was slipping into had stopped and he liked to hope that he was peaceful now. His mom had always told him stories of something called reincarnation. Where a person would come back after one of their lives had ended. The concept scared Eren originally, he couldn’t imagine being anyone or anything else but now, he was hopeful. The idea of Jean getting another chance at a life where he could be happy.

“I’ll fight for you, the way you fought for me.” He muttered under his breath, his small hand cupping around the key that hung from his neck. “Jean,” Muttering his name felt so cruel now, he wanted nothing more than for his comrade to answer him. “I love you too…”


End file.
